


Quiet Sails

by SunderedSunlight (InfernalMachette)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Body Horror, Descriptions of Panic, Descriptions of body functions, I guess this has spoilers but it's really vauge?, I just wanted to beat up jonahelias so i wrote this actually, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, No blood is spilled its just talked about, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Separation Anxiety, Theres no sex its just mature because its intense about the panic thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:40:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24836278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfernalMachette/pseuds/SunderedSunlight
Summary: Elias didn't realize how powerful The Lonely could be, anxiety ensues.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Honestly how do you decide which of the rat eye bastards actually likes peter? Not a clue, Peter Lukas/Jonah Magnus, Rats are here and they sure are being lonely eyed
Kudos: 33





	Quiet Sails

The quietness is probably the most notable thing about Lonely. Quietness highlights all the other moments, painting it with shades of bluish grey. The first thing Elias observed was how soft his footsteps were by themselves. How the lack of another pair made them sound hollow, empty, like his feet weren’t really moving at all. As he walked through his apartment, which was kept neat and sharp as a pin, thank you very much, the silence continued to deafen him. His breathing, his heart beat pounding through his ears. Being an avatar of the eye made him far too observant for his comfort these days. He tried to settle himself, hearing his own breath wasn’t so bad right? That was a meditation practice, listening to one's breath. He closed his eyes and started counting how long his breaths were in his head, keeping it soft and even. In for five, hold for seven, out for eight. 

It became overwhelming fast. With no visual observations his eyes turned inwards to the intricacies of his body, how his blood ran through his veins and the air he took in hit his alveoli and got ripped up by torrents and torrents of cells. Burning hot through him. The physicality of his body, bones creaking and puppeteteered by his tendons, ligaments, nerves and mind. He opened his eyes again looking around desperately for something to see, and they landed on a ship in a bottle. The air was knocked out of him and he froze, staring at its sails. The stitching of them was a fine, ivory white thread, neat and even, perfectly to scale. The sails themselves were a tight woven light oiled canvas, mimicking real ones. Moving closer, his breath still held, he examined its boards, they were clearly individually cut. The craft of them was an old aged wood, maybe an oak plank from a real ship. Bending in swooping curves it created the elegant water cutting shape of the bow. 

The person who had crafted this ship had gone to the effort of painting tiny knots in the deck timbers, and leaving small gaps where the ship's planks had settled and shrank. It seemed the masts had rings of rope individually twined to scale and painted to look like they were properly tared. The metal hardware was painted to the dark oiled iron a real ship would have, but Elias wasn’t sure if it was real iron. He didn’t think that real iron could be forged into such small parts with such shape. As he stared he realized the ship had a wheel that looked like it was able to spin. He wished for a moment he could take it out of the bottle to move it, but dared not damage the piece. The most interesting detail of all however, was the resin sea. It had been set to have simple rippling waves. Usually such boats simply stood on stands or were “beached” in the bottles, but the craftsman who had made this one had painstakingly set the boat floating in resin. Elias wondered how they’d done it, it even tilted with the direction of the water. 

Maybe he could ask- No. Elias knew that person would have known, but he couldn’t ask now. He couldn’t look. The air rushed back into his lungs and he wheezed and coughed remembering just how mortal and human the body he was in was. Scrambling back from the bottle, and falling on his ass in the hallway he started hyperventilating. He was gone, Elias hadn’t thought about it beforehand, they’d always had such good back and forth. He never REALLY wanted him to actually leave, but Jon had taken him. Jon hadn't even had the good manners to do it respectfully; he had just ripped through everything and used The Eye to shove The Lonely. It had shown Elias that Jon was ready and he’d seen it coming, but he hadn’t seen the pain coming. His head started aching and he curled up hugging his knees, starting to cry. He was immortal but somehow he still had this feeling, he didn’t think he’d ever have this feeling again but he had it and it hurt. The quietness of the apartment stayed.


End file.
